


Maybe I Found Something Good

by longhairzarry



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute texts, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, like a lot of it, meeting on tinder, mentions a lot of drinking, nothing but fluff for a good chunk of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairzarry/pseuds/longhairzarry
Summary: It’s just Zayn, he has to remind himself. The Zayn he’s been telling everything to for the past month, the Zayn he’s thought about kissing since the first message he sent him, the Zayn that’s in front of him right now wanting to get to know him even more.
Or, the one where Harry meets Zayn on Tinder.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1dmademedoit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1dmademedoit/gifts).



> Hello! This is my first time ever writing and publishing any of my writing seriously. I've never written anything longer than 10k and I'm particularly proud of myself. I whipped this out in about a week, it was tough and I feel like there could be improvements so please be kind!
> 
> Being a pinch hitter was tough but so fun! I loved creating this story, it's something I've been thinking about for awhile and I'm glad I can finally share it. I hope you all like it and any feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> Thank you! x

It’s a Friday night and Harry’s still at work. He’s been checking the time on his laptop that he’s been trying to work on for the past three hours, praying to any higher power imaginable to let him just leave this place. He wonders what he was thinking about five hours ago when his boss, Linda, a very demanding but respectful woman probably about twice his age who takes her coffee black and has a liking towards very slimming pencil skirts and flowing blouses, asked him to stay late today, suggesting that she really needed him to get a head start on next month’s changes for the company’s website, even though the deadline for that isn’t for another couple weeks, which is what Harry wanted to add but didn’t because he wants to impress Linda. He wants that promotion and he wants that raise, a big, hefty paycheck allowing him the opportunity to buy that bigger flat he so desperately wants and but more importantly be able to pay off next month’s rent without any type of struggle. 

Harry’s phone vibrates again in his bag. It’s been burning a hole in his messenger bag for the past hour with message after message and a even a prolonged buzzing which was his roommate, Casey, calling to ask when he’s going to make it to the pub. The voicemail she left proved she was well on her way to being completely plastered, yelling and slurring her words almost to the point of annoying. They had planned a night out with a group of friends they’d known since uni, something Harry was actually looking forward to. 

Ever since work had become busier, a social life had almost become non-existent to Harry. While working for a well established publishing company in London was somewhat of a big break, he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. Writing is his passion, a hobby he always felt was more than just a hobby. He knew he wanted to do something with it whether it was writing his own novel or even just short stories. Throughout uni, the passion grew stronger, he never left anywhere without his leather cover journal, always close-by and ready to jot down anything that he felt inspired by. Working for a publishing company seemed it’d be the icing on the cake and the final piece to the puzzle but when he’s merely just fixing up technical issues with the company’s website and approving stories other people have written instead of writing them himself Harry knows there’s more for him somewhere. 

When the clock strikes eight o’clock, Harry’s immediately packing up his laptop and is out the door, not particularly satisfied with the work he’s done but his brain is fried. He needs a stiff drink. The idea of a promotion isn’t as satisfying as the idea of keeping his sanity intact. 

When Harry finally reaches the pub, Casey’s practically climbing over the table to hug him. She’s shouting and reeks of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Harry can’t wait for the pain she’ll be later tonight when he’s the one that has to take her home. He hopes she doesn’t throw up this time. He’s not too fond of that.

“Finally! You made it! Fucking twat,” she shouts in his ear as she embraces him, a bit too tightly but lovingly. 

“Hey! I was getting paid extra money tonight. Enough for a good chunk of this month’s rent so I don’t wanna hear it,” Harry bites back, effectively shutting her up but knowing he meant no ill will.

Casey rolls her eyes dramatically, sticking out her tongue and losing her balance a little bit before sitting back down in the booth they’ve all decided to congregate at. 

Harry and Casey have been friends since uni, barging into Harry’s life without even really asking permission if Harry’s being honest. She sat down at the table he was occupying alone in the library, begging him to let her sit there with him-- _I’m trying to avoid this guy, we hooked up last night and he’s right over there. I think he’s following me_ \--Harry, of course, wasn’t going to say no, understanding everyone needed to be shielded from an embarrassing one night stand. Ever since then, they’d been inseparable, attached at the hip essentially. They were like a package deal, if you talked about Casey, you talked about Harry as well and vice versa. 

Along with Casey came her friends that Harry’d become close to. Niall, Louis and Liam had weaseled their way into Harry’s perfectly uneventful life without much hassle. Niall being one of Casey’s closest childhood friends, following her to uni and throughout life. Niall’s so obviously head over heels for her but Casey won’t hear any of it. She shuns any type of emotional connection with anyone especially Niall, saying he’s like a brother to her, breaking Niall’s heart a little more each time. 

Louis is someone Harry would describe as overly confident and loud, maybe too loud sometimes. He was one of Harry’s first roommates in uni, always making a bit too much noise at one in the morning when Harry was trying to sleep. He often strolled in, highly intoxicated, begging Harry to wake up so he could boast about the fit girl he pulled that night. He made too much of a mess in the room and always ate Harry’s food he brought back from home. Harry knew all these things could easily make someone hate Louis but for some reason Harry couldn’t. Their friendship was gained over many late night talks while lying in bed across from each other, sharing how they were homesick, how much they missed their mums and their sisters. Harry was still allowed to think he was annoying sometimes though.

Then there was Liam who was one of Louis’ best friends, making him an automatic friend to Harry. He was everything Louis wasn’t, sensible, quiet but still able to have fun. Harry can embarrassingly admit he had a bit of a crush on Liam when they first met, he had puppy dog eyes and a nice beard, something Harry was always weak for. Harry liked having him around whenever Louis was there, he was able to balance out the atmosphere when Louis got to be a bit too much especially on nights like these where great amounts of alcohol were involved.

“Oh shut up, buzzkill. Sit down and get drunk, for god’s sake!” Louis shouts from the booth they’re all sitting at.

Harry sticks out his tongue, turning his nose up at Louis dramatically. He eventually sits down next to Casey, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. She lets out a big sigh, Harry can smell the alcohol on her breath. He wonders how much she’s drank, scared to find out.

“Hey, Harry!” Liam shouts as he walks up to the table from the bar, carrying three drinks, two in one hand and one in the other. Harry doesn’t know how he hasn’t dropped any of them yet. He passes them out to Louis, Niall and Casey, they’re all probably halfway to drunk and Harry hasn’t even started. He’s slightly jealous.

“You want anything?” Liam offers Harry kindly, something Harry won’t say no to since Casey has firmly planted her head on Harry’s shoulder, not giving him enough room to even move. 

Harry goes with just a beer, probably only sticking to one drink and one drink only. With the way Casey’s drinking, he knows he’s the designated driver and needs to be the sober one tonight considering they live together, he can barely take care of one drunk person.

A couple hours and maybe three drinks later, they’re all discussing their recent hookups, a topic Harry would rather not hear about. 

“She was totally fit, great tits. I kinda miss her, might call her up sometime,” Louis drones on. He talks about the same girl every time, Harry’s positive he might be in love with her but he won’t admit it. 

“You said that last time, Lou. Still haven’t called, huh?” Harry butts in, smiling to himself. He knows how to get Louis rowled up. 

“Oi! Shut the fuck up, Styles!” Before Louis continues, he’s looking across the room at a brunette girl standing at the bar with her friend, laughing about something terribly funny it seemed.

“She’s cute. Right, Liam?” He asks, nudging Liam’s hand across the table with his own. Liam turns around following Louis’ gaze. He turns back around, shrugging. 

“Yeah, I suppose. Her friend is quite pretty,” Liam says modestly. When Liam gets drunk he doesn’t say much, very reserved and quiet. Harry likes to think he becomes a more honest version of himself. 

Harry scoffs, loud enough for Louis to hear which causes him to look over at him, looking slightly offended.

“What’re you laughing at, mate?” Louis should stop drinking before he blows out everyone’s eardrums from his excessive shouting. He becomes boisterous and obnoxious if Harry could describe it honestly.

“Nothing,” Harry replies as he sips on his beer, holding back a sly smile. 

“Okay, Mr. Pick-up Line Master. I dare you to pull a guy in this pub right now,” Louis challenges him, puffing up his chest a bit, thinking he’s sounded tough.

“Yeah, no. I’m good. No one’s peaking my interest here,” Harry brushes him off, continuing to sip on his beer, not giving a care in the world, only irritating Louis even more. Harry thinks he can see steam coming out of Louis’ ears.

“You need a boyfriend, Harry! Let me find you a boyfriend,” Casey pipes in suddenly as she begins to scope out the pub for potential suitors, squinting her eyes dramatically proving just how drunk she was. 

“I don’t need one, I’m good,” Harry adds in quickly, not wanting to get into this conversation while she was so wasted, not even registering what anyone was saying. She probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow.

Casey takes another sip from her vodka cranberry before asking, “when was the last time you got laid?”

Harry almost chokes on his drink, coughing a bit before he’s able to properly respond. Meanwhile, the entire table is snickering, watching the scene unfold in front of them, clearly amused by Casey’s drunk, invasive questioning but also by Harry’s reaction. 

“Yeah, Harry! When’s the last time you got some?” Louis eggs Casey on, as Harry eyes him with what he hopes is one of the dirtiest looks he could give. The last thing Casey needs is encouragement especially with how much she’s had to drink.

“I-I don’t know! Does it matter? Why does it matter?” Harry sputters, feeling his cheeks getting red. He’s sweating, he can feel it. He’s burning up, he doesn’t do well with talking about his sex life, mostly because it hasn’t existed in years. 

The last time he had a real boyfriend was about three years ago with that one guy in uni named Colin. He was nice, a good kisser from what Harry could remember and had an average-sized dick. Nothing to write home about if Harry was being completely honest. If Harry was being serious he probably wouldn’t even consider that a proper relationship. Colin was merely just a hookup that happened a few times within a year. He’s had crushes but never anything he acted on, too scared to be rejected. A few guys he probably spent a little too much time staring at, blowing his cover whenever they caught him ogling them. He channeled all his attention on work and what he wanted with his future career. Love and relationships were put on the backburner. 

“Because you need to have sex! Let loose, it’ll relax you, I promise!” Casey continues shouting, loud enough that Harry’s sure the whole pub can hear they’re just not showing it. He’s embarrassed and wants to leave. This conversation is only going to get worse, he can sense it.

“I’m okay. I promise,” Harry says, imitating Casey a little to ease the attention off him and little more on to how drunk she was. 

“You’re really not. You should get on Tinder or something. It’s easy.”

“No way, nuh uh. I’m not using Tinder to find a boyfriend,” Harry says as he shakes his head profusely. He refuses to resort to an app to find his next boyfriend. He wasn’t that desperate for company.

“Why not? It’s fun! I’m sure there are cute guys on there,” Casey continues, attempting to sell him on the idea. She sips on her drink some more, reaching the bottom of her glass, about to lick the glass the clean. 

“Because I’m not that desperate, Casey. I can meet someone in person if I wanted I just don’t want a boyfriend right now,” Harry says a bit too harshly, growing annoyed with the conversation. 

Casey, completely oblivious to her surroundings and all feelings of tension, continues on with her prodding, “yeah, right. You barely even leave your room on the weekends. I’m surprised you even made it tonight, I was expecting an excuse.” 

Harry can sense a bit of hostility in her voice but doesn’t take it personally. Her blood alcohol level is rising with every sip she takes from her empty glass. 

“You could talk to the guy that’s been standing over there eyeing you like a fucking stalker for the whole night,” Niall says, nodding his head towards the bald guy near the end of the bar, who definitely was staring at Harry, almost predator-like. Harry wasn’t flattered in the slightest, wanting to get out of the creepy guy’s line of vision almost immediately. Harry makes a disgusted face towards Niall, earning an amused snicker out of him, almost choking on his beer as he sips it and slamming the bottle back down on the table. 

Casey interrupts their chatter, steering the subject back onto the matter at hand.

“Just let me make you one, Harry.”

“What?” 

“A Tinder! Let me make you one, please,” she’s practically begging. Harry was concerned that she might actually get up from the table, get down on her knees and beg him until he said yes. 

After five seconds of deliberation, Harry hands over his phone to her, “Whatever, do what you want.” He sighs as Casey reaches out to grab his phone, squealing in excitement and almost knocking over her empty glass on the table. He figured she’ll be too drunk to recall this entire scenario so what’s the damage?

Casey taps away on his phone, downloading the app and finally opening it up. 

“Make sure you put the most embarrassing fucking pictures of him on there,” Louis laughs maniacally, making Harry glare at him. 

“Whatever, this is boring. C’mon Liam, be my wingman,” Louis gets up from the table, tapping Liam on the shoulder, signaling him to follow him, making a beeline to the girls he’d been openly staring at all night. 

“God, those poor girls,” Niall snickers under his breath, taking a swig from his beer, Harry nodding in agreement. Harry hopes the girls have a childish sense of humor because otherwise they’ll be begging Louis to leave them alone. 

Casey’s still hard at work on Harry’s Tinder profile, tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration, Harry almost laughs. She’s deciding on pictures to add to his profile, Harry’s monitoring her closely, not wanting any horribly humiliating photos of himself to appear on the internet. He’d like to keep his dignity.

“Don’t add that picture!” Harry tries snatching his phone back from her as she laughs so hard, clutching her stomach with her other hand. It’s a picture of Harry passed out drunk with a penis drawn on his face, an immature prank Louis played on him in uni after he had celebrated his 22nd birthday, drinking a bit too much and not remembering any of it. 

“I’m kidding, I won’t! We need a cute picture of you, show off your dimples and whatnot. Make the guys swoon,” Casey slurs, picking a few more photos, seeking Harry’s approval before using them. 

They’re all good pictures, Harry decides. He doesn’t care because at the end of the night he’s deleting the profile. He’s only cooperating with Casey at the moment because she’s practically a baby when she’s drunk. It’s better to just do what she says and then delete the evidence the next morning, she’s more than likely to not remember. 

Before Harry knows it, Casey’s already swiping right and left on each guy she comes across. She’s going so fast Harry can’t keep up and get a proper look at any of the potential prospects. Harry’s starting to lose interest, Tinder’s not as exciting as Casey made it out to be.

Liam and Louis still haven’t returned to the table, mingling with the same girls they set their sights on earlier. Harry can tell Louis has definitely charmed the petite brunette as she giggles at something he says, probably some stupid joke at another person’s expense which is his strong suit. Liam’s taken a liking to the brunette’s friend, who seems just as enthralled with Louis as all of them are but Liam could very well take her home. 

Harry turns his attention back to Casey next to him, still swiping right and left at the speed of light. She eventually slows down and stops on guy in particular, clicking on his picture, revealing another set of photos and the guy’s bio.

“Oh my god. He’s literally gorgeous, Harry! Like model gorgeous!” She turns the phone towards Harry, letting him catch a glimpse of the guy. The first thing he notices are his eyelashes. They’re so long, Harry’s almost positive they’re fake. He has the prettiest eyes, the best lips and the most subtle stubble, Harry can feel himself getting hot. Harry loves a nice beard on a guy, while he struggles to grow one of his own, he loves the feeling of coarse hair against his skin. 

Harry doesn’t realize he’s been staring at this guy’s picture, whose name is listed as Zayn, which somehow suits him, until he suddenly snaps out of it and is staring at Casey’s mischievous, drunk smirk. 

Before Harry can even utter a word, Casey’s looking back at the phone, “I’m swiping right,” she says casually.

“No, don’t!” Harry yells as he tries snatching his phone back from her but before he can she’s already swiped right, securing his fate. His heart drops, he’s pretty sure it’s in his stomach now and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t even know this Zayn guy but for some reason he’s already flustered. 

Casey’s jaw immediately drops, staring at Harry’s phone in her hands. His palms are sweating.

“What?!” Harry can’t believe this is the most dramatic moment of his life. It’s just an app, he has to remind himself.

“You matched with him,” the corners of her mouth tilting upward. “That was quick, he must be online literally right now.”

“You should say hey to him,” Casey goes on, starting to type out a message to him.

“No, Casey! Stop, seriously,” Harry argues, starting to get irritated. He didn’t need Casey meddling in his non-existent love life and especially not his Tinder conversations on the profile she created. Also, having her take the reigns of this venture while in her drunk state of mind probably isn’t the best idea. 

Harry takes his phone from her, pressing the power button and effectively ending the debate altogether. Casey sighs dramatically next to him causing Harry to look over at her. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you. He was literally the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and he obviously thought you were cute. He swiped right. That’s true love,” she rambles, slurring her words along the way. Harry laughs under his breath, he can’t take her seriously right now.

“Because Casey, I’m not about to resort to an app to hook up with someone.”

“It’s not just for hooking up, that could be your soulmate!” Casey shouts, throwing her arms in the air, clearly exasperated out of her mind. 

“Yeah, sure,” Harry rolls his eyes. He’s not sure the idea of soulmates is even realistic especially through an app on his phone. It’s just a quick way to get sex and Harry’s not too keen on that idea. He’s not a prude, he likes sex, loves it even sometimes. But when he sleeps with someone, he likes there to be a connection, not just some quickie with a random stranger he’s talked to a few times on Tinder just because they’re attractive. 

It’s nearing the end of the night, Casey’s pretty much passed out on Harry’s shoulder and Liam and Louis have solidified their fate with the two girls at the bar, already saying their goodbyes to Niall, Harry and Casey. Harry rolls his eyes at Louis, who’s practically undressing the brunette he’s taking home with his eyes, Harry wants to gag. The last image he needs in his mind is of Louis and some girl romping around. He had enough of an eyeful back in uni when he walked in on Louis and a girl who lived down the hall from them, half naked with his hand down her pants. Harry shivers at the thought.

Harry finally decides to work up the strength to lug Casey out of the pub and into his car with a little help from Niall, earning himself the workout he desperately needed. Niall waves them goodbye as he catches a cab home, making promises to all hang out again soon. Keeping an eye on Casey the whole way home, making sure that she didn’t vomit on the leather seats and exterior. His car wasn’t expensive by any means but he’d rather not have to smell the remnants of throw up later on.

When they finally get back to their flat and Harry settles Casey in her bed, making sure she’s comfortable, she’s out like a light. Snoring so loud Harry’s sure the neighbors below them can hear her. Harry can’t wait for the pain she’ll be tomorrow morning, crying and whining about the hangover she has while Harry’s forced to take care of her like a baby.

As he’s lying in bed, contemplating a way to avoid babysitting Casey, Harry’s phone buzzes and lights up with a notification in the darkness of his room. Squinting at the brightness of his screen and finally making out the words, his heart’s in his throat.

_Zayn sent you a new message_

Harry’s palms are suddenly sweaty and he honestly thinks about not opening it. He thinks about waiting until tomorrow to look at it, scared Casey actually did send him a message without his consent, embarrassing him eternally.

Harry doesn’t know what happens or what makes him do it but he’s already swiping to the right to open up the app.

_Hey :) x_

That’s all it says but for some reason Harry’s heart is beating so fast. How ridiculous, he thinks. He’s literally lying here, losing every sense of sanity over this person, a stranger. He could be a complete fake for all Harry knew, using someone else’s pictures as his own, pretending to be some kind of beautiful male model. 

Harry struggles to come up with a response. He wants to be clever and cute. Maybe a little bit witty to show off his sense of humor. He wants to impress him and he doesn’t even know him. 

He finally just types out a simple “Heyyy xx” back, spending a bit too much time wondering if whether or not he should put two x’s or not. He didn’t want to seem too forward or pushy but also wanted to give the impression that he’s open to flirting. Harry loves to flirt especially with a gorgeous, dark-haired, pouty-lipped guy who was most definitely out of his league. 

Almost immediately, Zayn replies. Harry has barely any time to react and recover from the previous shock of Zayn’s first random message.

_How’s your night been, babes? x_

God, Harry can’t believe his heart’s beating out of his chest now. He called him “babes.” He’s dying, he’s probably dead already. Harry is grateful Casey isn’t present for this right now because he’d never hear the end of it. 

**Not that exciting. Helped my drunk friend home. Riveting haha**

Harry probably sounds like a total killjoy. He doesn’t know what to say. His mouth’s dry and he can feel his face turning red even though he’s not talking to Zayn in person. Harry’s never had a problem with talking to cute guys, he thinks he’s an expert at it actually. Taking pride in the way he can charm anyone into buying him a drink when he goes out. But for some reason, Harry’s never come across someone so devastatingly good looking before in his life and he’s intimidated, he’s nervous and wishes this conversation never started because he knows he’s going to end up embarrassing himself. 

_Haha so you were assigned the designated driver duty?_

**Yeah pretty much haha. Not a wild night out at all. At least she didn’t throw up so that’s a plus**

Harry’s feeling brave and decides to add in another message without waiting for another reply. He doesn’t know where this courage is coming from, maybe it’s because he’s behind a screen and is able to fake confidence. 

**How was your night? Xxx**

_Three kisses? Wow I feel lucky. But it was pretty boring. Spent it sketching up some stuff_

**You like to draw? What kind of stuff? I love to write, another creative pastime**

_Two creative minds coming together. It’s fate._

Harry snickers. He can sense the dry wit through the screen. He loves a good sense of humor in a partner as well. He can’t believe he’s even checking off his list for relationships at the moment, he’s using Tinder, for god’s sake. 

_But mainly I just draw cartoons. Comic stuff. Nerdy I know but I love superheroes :)_

Harry can’t believe this. He’s not only stunningly handsome, witty but also dorky in a cute, endearing way. He’s completely enamored and wants to know more about Zayn like what’s his favorite color, his favorite food and his favorite season. Does he have a big family with too many cousins to count or a small, cozy family still just as close? Is he a cat or a dog person? This becomes the ultimate test for Harry since he’s more of a cat person himself. Spending majority of his childhood being surrounded by cats, his mum having a knack for always keeping a cat around. Harry realizes he needs to stop while he’s ahead. He’s already deciding if something’s a deal breaker for a proper relationship when he’s only been having a five minute conversation with this stranger over the internet. He’s so pathetic and he needs to get laid. 

_What do you write? If you don’t mind me asking_

Harry wonders if he should just tell a little white lie. Sharing what he writes is very personal to him, he feels vulnerable when someone asks to see his work. He barely even shows Casey. He doesn’t know if it’s something he wants to share with a stranger on Tinder as a way to further the chance of getting into his pants.

**Just personal stuff. I wanna write my own book someday.**

Harry locks his phone out of embarrassment after he sends the message, resisting the urge to throw his phone across the room. That’s the last thing he thought he’d ever say to someone on Tinder, let alone did he think he’d be talking to someone on Tinder in the first place. He’s never really told anyone that he’s been working on a novel for the past few years, something that was essentially his goal after he graduated uni. He’s not ashamed of his passion but instead just scared of the criticism. 

Before Harry can doze off, his phone vibrates again with another message from Zayn.

_That’s so sick! Like what kind of book?_

_Sorry I’m asking too many questions, prying a bit. Probably annoying_

**No it’s ok. It’s still in the beginning stages. Not sure what kind of book yet but that’s the goal :) sucker for a good sci-fi though**

_You’re talking to a sci-fi superhero lover right now. I can relate haha :) x_

Harry wants to keep this conversation going but he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, the 12 hour work day catching up with him. While he’s trying to come up with a response, something to spark up another subject, he falls asleep. He doesn’t realize until he’s shaking himself awake at about nine in the morning, phone still grasped in his hand, cursing himself. 

Turning his lock screen back on, he sees he has a couple more messages from Zayn after he fell asleep. 

_Hey I’d love to keep talking to you maybe outside of this dumb app haha. Is it ok if I give you my number?_

About ten minutes later, Zayn texted again, after Harry didn’t answer.

_Sorry that was probably weird. Don’t wanna be too forward just wanna get to know you more. That probably sounded cheesy but it’s true. Anyways goodnight, hope to talk to you more :) xx_

Harry wants to pinch himself because this can’t possibly be real. Before he can fully process the entire conversation from the previous night and even think about what he should reply with, he figures he should check on Casey, making sure she hasn’t fallen out of bed while being blackout drunk. 

Surprisingly, she’s pouring herself a cup of tea in the kitchen, something she was able to adequately do despite being still slightly drunk. Harry’s impressed. Usually she’s completely useless, groaning and moaning about every single thing, making Harry wonder what in the world did he do in a past life to deserve this. 

“Wow. Good morning, sunshine,” Harry beams sarcastically at her, earning him a eyeroll from her in response.

“Shut up,” she croaks, voice rough and gravelly, probably from all the yelling she did the night before. Casey’s a loud, obnoxious drunk. She becomes best friends with everyone especially anyone willing to buy the whole table a round of shots.

Harry briefly considers telling her about Zayn. She was the one who created the Tinder profile after all, he figures he should probably update her on that venture but then remembers her lack of sobriety the night before. She probably doesn’t even remember it, barely even being able to hold the phone up properly. 

He doesn’t want to relive the experience in their second year of uni when she literally shouted in the middle of house party that Harry had a massive crush on a guy in his business class who so happened to be at the same exact party. She threw up all over the floor after that due to drinking one too many tequila shot. Needless to say, the guy never spared Harry a glance after that.

“I didn’t do anything stupid last night, did I?” she asks as she sips her tea. She looks a mess, her hair ruffled, eye makeup smudged. Harry wants to laugh but he holds it in.

“Nope, nothing out of the ordinary. Did have to carry you home though. Thanks for the workout.”

“God, shut up,” she bites back, attempting to swat at him with her arm, Harry effectively dodging her, laughing under his breath. “You’re such a twat. I’m going back to bed. My head’s killing me.”

“Goodnight, princess,” Harry makes kissy faces towards her but only gets a dramatic eye roll from her in response, not having enough energy to retort with a sarcastic comment. Harry’s thankful she’s not hunched over the toilet bowl, emptying all the contents of her stomach. He doesn’t do well with vomit, practically crying in year nine when he threw up during lunch time in front of the entire cafeteria. His mum had to come pick him up and take him home, locking himself away in his room, completely humiliated and wanting to die. He hasn’t thrown up since then and doesn’t plan on it. 

As soon as Casey walks out the room, Harry’s grabbing his phone from the kitchen counter in front of him. He needs to answer Zayn, he can’t just leave him in the dark like that. He strangely feels bad even though he doesn’t even know Zayn, not like that anyway.

**Sorry! Fell asleep, was proper knackered last night. I’d love to have your number, we can text and whatnot :) xxxx**

Harry knows he’s overdoing it with the four kisses. It’s embarrassing but he sends it anyway, not caring how desperate it might make him look. Being behind a phone screen has made him braver, more open in a way he thinks. 

The minutes afterwards are what kill him. Harry always tends to second guess himself with everything. Like in year ten when he “accidentally” sent Paul Gallagher, Harry’s first proper school boy crush, a friend request on his newly made Facebook account. They’d barely talked, Harry wasn’t even sure Paul knew he was. Of course, he worried about it for hours after it happened, convinced that he’d have to come up with some elaborate story that his finger slipped, he didn’t mean to press the “add friend” button. He wouldn’t know how well that argument would hold up because he’d never have to use it. Paul accepted his friend request the next day and nothing else happened. It just gave Harry a free pass to ogle at more pictures of him on his Facebook. There was also the time when Harry was paired up with the cute guy, Nathan, in his English literature class in uni. They had to write a paper together, something about the romantic era in the 18th century, Harry couldn’t have cared less if he was being honest. All he cared about was blonde hair, blue eyed Nathan. Tall, broad shouldered, muscled Nathan. He was unexpectedly nice as well and Harry wanted to kiss him so bad. Harry would never get over the day Nathan caught Harry staring at the skin just above his jeans after he’d stretched his arms over his head, letting a little sliver of skin show from beneath his shirt. They locked eyes and Harry wanted to die, he was sure the color of his face matched the color of a tomato. 

There were plenty of other times Harry couldn’t help but second guess himself. This time was no different. Were the four kisses too forward? Maybe he should’ve said he’d “like” to have his number instead of “love.” He took too long to respond and Zayn’s probably moved onto his next Tinder prospect. Before he can get way too deep into his thoughts, his phone vibrates on the counter.

Harry practically jumps for it.

It’s Zayn. He gave him his number. Along with four more kisses in response.

 

_________________________________________________

 

It’s been about a month now and Zayn and Harry are still talking. They text almost everyday, talking about anything and everything. Harry knows Zayn’s favorite color is black-- _I feel like it suits me, ya know?_ \--Harry knows Zayn has three sisters, one older one named Doniya and two younger ones names Safaa and Waliyha. Harry also knows that Zayn is a dog person more than a cat person and Harry’s found that might not be a deal breaker. Zayn’s an overall animal lover, dogs, cats, birds, lizards, rabbits, you name it. Harry thinks that speaks a lot to his character, that Zayn’s just a loving person, he loves everything and doesn’t care what or who they are. 

It’s gotten to the point that Zayn and Harry have their own inside jokes now. They’ve talked so much they know each other’s quirks and senses of humor. Harry knows for a fact Zayn’s a real person, Zayn’s sent him a few selfies which left Harry feeling a bit lightheaded. In a few of the selfies he sent he was shirtless, showing off a few tattoos on his chest and his arms. He’s so good looking is the thing and Harry can’t believe someone like Zayn is talking to him and doesn’t want to stop anytime soon. They spoke on the phone once, Harry making sure Casey was fully asleep before he picked up, not wanting her to hear. He still hasn’t told her and he kind of wants to keep it that way for as long as he can, at least until he properly meets him. Zayn’s mentioned a few times about meeting up and each time Harry deflects, saying he’s busy and has “stuff” to do but it’s a lie. The truth is, Harry’s absolutely terrified of meeting Zayn. Even though they’ve been talking everyday for the past month, to the point where they text each other when something reminds them of the other, Harry can’t help but feel so inferior to Zayn, that he won’t live up to the expectation Zayn’s set for him. 

Harry’s working a job he isn’t particularly happy with, doing something he knows he could do better at. His wardrobe isn’t the best, he wears the same t-shirt three days in a row, his hair’s in need of a trim and he’s sure he’s gained a few pounds in the past couple weeks due to skipping some workouts at the gym. It’s weird because Harry’s never been one to be terribly self-conscious. He always relies on his charm and charisma to carry him through a lot of things in life but he can’t help but get tongue-tied when it comes to Zayn. Put together, modelesque, kindhearted Zayn. 

So when the subject comes up again between them, Harry knows it’s time to stop avoiding it and finally address it. 

_Do u not want to meet me_

Harry’s heart drops. He knows he’s been kind of standoff-ish when it comes to the topic but he always tries to come up with a decent excuse. 

_cuz if u don’t I get it. Idk I jyst like u a lot, wanan meet u and do things with u_

Harry can tell he must be out drinking. Zayn rarely ever misspells a word when texting and doesn’t ever use shortened versions of words unless he’s drunk and not patient enough to type out the entire thing. He says it hurts his eyes to look at his phone for too long. It was one of the many things he revealed to Harry in their conversations in the past month. 

_Sorry im drunk ignroe me_

**It’s not that I don’t wanna meet you I’m just nervous**

_Why?_

**Because. Idk**

**You’re like gorgeous. I’m me**

_Harry ur honestly the fittest guy ive ever seen_

Harry can’t help the smile that takes over his entire face. Zayn’s told him a few times how attractive he thinks Harry is, never failing in making Harry’s day. 

_I think abt u all th e time_

_Like all the time babe. I wa nna kiss u so bad. Wanna touch u_

Harry’s burning up, Zayn’s never talked like this before. They’ve never talked about having sex although it’s something Harry would love to do. Especially with Zayn. He wants Zayn to keep going, let him know exactly what he wants to do to him. 

**I wanna do that too**

**Kiss you and touch you**

_I coudl make it all so good for u i promise_

The sweat forming on Harry’s forehead is just from the lack of air conditioning going into his room, Harry’s sure of it. Harry never knew Zayn felt that strongly about this but he chalks it up to the amount of alcohol he’s probably consumed, clouding his thoughts and all sense of good judgement. 

**Haha you’re so drunk babe**

_No im not I think abt this all th e time babes ;)_

God, Harry wants to cry and also he needs a wank. Thinking too much and too hard about every possible fantasy of him and Zayn, naked, writhing and sweating together on his mattress.

**I’m going to bed Zayn. Goodnight. Drink some water x**

_Night babes, thinking abt u now xxxxxxxxx_

 

_________________________________________________

 

Casey finds out one night while they’re catching up on episodes of Scandal. Harry curses himself for leaving his phone out in plain sight on the coffee table in front of the sofa while he leaves to go to the bathroom. Once he returns, he finds Casey holding his phone, smirking at him. Harry’s hopeless.

“So when did you plan on telling me?”

“Telling you what?” Harry tries playing dumb. He knows it won’t last long. With Casey, playing stupid will get you nowhere. It’s one of her pet peeves. 

“C’mon, Harry. Just tell me. How long have you been sexting Tinder guy behind my back?” 

“We’re not fucking sexting. Jesus. We’re just talking. Give me my phone,” he tries snatching it away from her but she pulls it out of his reach, giving him a knowing look. She won’t give it back until he gives details. 

Harry knew this day would come if he wanted anything more to happen with Zayn. Casey’s always meddled into their friend’s relationships, trying her hardest to give them a happy ending but in reality making it a complete disaster. She was never the cause of the bad outcome but didn’t make the situation any better. Like the time she told her work friend, Mandy, that she should just take the plunge and ask her fit downstairs neighbor out. Turns out he was undeniably and obviously gay resulting in humiliating Mandy and ignoring Casey forever. Or the time when she set up two of their uni friends on a date and ended in complete failure, with the girl throwing her drink in the guy’s face. Casey wasn’t particularly the best when it came to relationship advice considering she’d never really had a proper boyfriend, she dated around, had a few one night stands every once in awhile but never really committed. Harry’s convinced she’s going to end up marrying Niall but she’d probably throw up out of disgust if he ever told her that.

“Not until you tell me,” she retorts, trying to hold back the smile on her face.

“I don’t know, like a month maybe. A little after you made the account. He messaged me that same night,” Harry sighs, feeling somewhat relieved. He’d been keeping this secret for so long, hiding his phone away from Casey around the flat every time she was nearby, not wanting to reveal this great thing he kept so close to his heart. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She sounds a bit sad, maybe a tiny bit betrayed. It’s not that Harry doesn’t trust Casey, he just wanted one thing to himself for once. Living with Casey has allowed him great experiences, experiences with his best friend that he can be thankful for but sometimes it’s nice to have something only he knows about. 

“I don’t know, Casey. I just-I don’t know. I really like him. I wanted to make sure it was real before I said anything.”

It’s so silent that Harry has to look up at her to make sure she’s still there. She’s definitely still there alright, beaming like a kid in a candy shop. Harry regrets telling her already.

“I can’t believe it. I made you get a Tinder boyfriend!” She shouts as she stands up on the sofa, beginning to jump up and down, Harry’s phone still firmly grasped in her hand. 

“God, shut up. He’s not my boyfriend. You’re so annoying,” he complains, trying to pull her down by her legs, reaching for his phone in the process. He eventually grabs it from her hand, opening up the message Zayn had sent, the one Casey peeked at.

“He wants to know if you’d get a drink with him Saturday,” Casey says before he can read the message himself. “Have you even met him yet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“And why not?” She looks personally offended. Harry wants to laugh, the face she pulls is quite comical, eyebrows scrunched, lips pouted. It’s like he insulted her or something.

“I don’t know, been busy,” Harry shrugs it off, trying his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. The last thing he wants to do is have Casey plan some kind of meet up between them. Knowing from her past experiences, he wants nothing to do with her twisted idea of a romantic gesture. 

“Bullshit. You’ve been home before five all week. Plenty of time to get in Tinder guy’s pants.”

“His name’s Zayn,” Harry quips back. “And I don’t wanna just ‘get in his pants,’ it’s more than that, ya know? He’s really nice. Funny, smart. It’s just--I don’t know. Complicated.”

Harry’s too embarrassed to even mention why. He’s been saying it to himself in his head for the past month, the excuses making sense to only him but now that he’s saying it out loud, he knows it sounds ridiculous. 

“Harry, you really shouldn’t be nervous. Like you’re the greatest guy like, ever. And he obviously likes you enough to keep asking to meet you. Just do it already,” she says as she slaps him on his arm, hoping to leave a mark.

“Ow! What the hell, Casey?!” 

“That’s what you get for being stupid and for not telling me!” She yells back, smiling, letting Harry know that she wasn’t mad and that it was all in good fun. 

“I want you to text him back right now and tell him yes, you’ll go have a drink with him.”

“Casey, I don’t-”

“Do it now or I’m gonna steal your phone later and I’ll do it myself,” Casey interrupts, the most determined look on her face. Harry knows she’d do it too, he wouldn’t put anything past her especially since she was already three glasses of wine deep. 

The staredown they share is intense to say the least. Harry gives in after about ten seconds, sighing loudly and taking his phone in his hand. He types out a response to Zayn, letting him know he’d love to get drinks on Saturday and that he “can’t wait.” He made sure to add a few kisses and a smiley face in there.

Zayn answers back immediately.

_I really can’t wait to meet you babe. Been thinking about it for the longest time x_

Harry can’t even try to hide the grin splitting his face right now. He’s ready for anything Casey’s about to throw at him as long as he can keep reading texts like that for the rest of his life.

“Now tell me. Has he sent you a dick pic yet?”

Harry throws a sofa pillow directly at Casey’s head.

_________________________________________________

 

Harry knows if he continues sweating bullets like he is now, his whole shirt will be drenched before the night is over. He’s finally meeting Zayn tonight. After a whole month of texting, they’re finally going to see each other in the flesh and Harry’s mortified. He can’t help the sinking feeling in his gut, worried that this might be a letdown, that Zayn might be a total asshole, only wanting to hook up with Harry. Or Harry could be a complete blubbering idiot, wrecking any chance he might have with Zayn. Harry thinks it’ll most likely be the latter of the two. 

“I’m pretty sure the outfit looked the exact same about 20 minutes ago when you first put it on,” Casey comes strolling into his room, eating some leftover take away they’d ordered a couple days ago. 

“Leave me alone. I’m nervous,” Harry doesn’t have time for her sly remarks, making him second guess himself. As a matter of fact, he should probably change into a different shirt. The one he has on now isn’t all that flattering he decides.

“What’re you doing?” She asks, eyeing him and he walks over to his dresser, searching for another shirt.

“Changing my shirt. Anything else you wanna quiz me on?”

“Harry, don’t. That shirt looks good on you. It’s your ‘sex shirt,’” she says, snickering. Harry glares at her over his shoulder as she sits down, cross-legged on his bed.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That’s the shirt you wear whenever you’re trying to pull. I’m not dumb, I know your tricks,” she shoots a knowing smirk his way, earning a sigh of disgust from Harry.

“I do not! This is just a regular old shirt which is why I need to change.”

“Harry, seriously don’t change,” she urges him, almost raising her voice a bit too much, causing Harry to stop rummaging through his dresser, his shoulders dropping.

“You really shouldn’t be nervous. It’s gonna be great. He’s gonna like you even more. And you’ll probably get to make out with him,” she just had to add in something inappropriate. It earns a laugh out of Harry, helping to ease his tension. Casey was right. He’d spent hours upon hours talking to Zayn, telling him things he hadn’t even told his own mother. To even think Zayn wouldn’t be interested was out of the question. 

“I know. Thanks, Casey,” he offers a warm smile her way, appreciating her presence at this moment in time. “So this shirt’s good? Will it woo him?” Harry does a twirl, showing off his entire outfit, letting Casey see every inch of it, waiting for her witty response with an amused grin plastered on his face.

“Definitely, 98% chance you are getting laid tonight, my friend,” she gives him a thumbs up, smiling so hard, her teeth on full display.

“Not sure about the getting laid part, not quite ready yet, I think. But definitely good enough for a kiss?”

“Oh, for sure. I mean, I’d kiss you right now,” she jokes.

Harry walks over to his nightstand, checking the time on his phone. It’s a little past seven and they agreed to meet at a pub at around eight, he needs to leave if he wants to be early. He wants to scope out the place, relax and calm himself down before Zayn shows up. He knows it might across as a bit eager but in all seriousness, he absolutely was. 

“I gotta go, don’t wait up for me,” Harry says to Casey as he walks out of the room and towards the front door.

“Have fun! And use protection!” Harry wants to yell back and tell her to shut up but instead he just laughs. 

 

_________________________________________________

 

Harry’s sitting on a stool at the bar, waiting for Zayn. It’s 7:43. He’s a bit early and he’s regretting it. It gives him the opportunity to stew in his nerves, making him more anxious than he was before. He’s already ordered himself a drink, he’s not really sure what it is, just telling the bartender to make him something with tequila in it. It’s strong, Harry can’t deny that and he’s hoping it’ll give him the liquid courage he needs to look Zayn in the eyes and actually have a conversation.

Five minutes pass by, Harry swears it feels like an hour. He begins to worry that Zayn’s going to stand him up. He figures it’d only be fair considering the amount of times he’d turned down Zayn when he asked to hang out. But he really hopes that’s not the case, he’d probably go home and cry for an eternity.

Before Harry can even continue his delusional and worst case scenario thinking, Zayn walks through the doors of the pub. Harry can tell it’s him from yards away. Harry’s pretty sure he can see an aura glowing around him, he’s the most beautiful thing Harry’s ever seen and Harry doesn’t realize he’s even staring until Zayn finally finds his gaze. 

Zayn gives him the warmest, softest smile he’s ever seen anyone give, Harry’s heart is pounding. Harry’s certain the entire pub can hear it, his ears are ringing but in the best way possible. When Zayn finally reaches him, Harry’s automatically getting up from his seat, returning Zayn’s doe-eyed, innocent smile.

“Hi,” Harry breathes. He’s literally breathless over this gorgeous man in front of him. He doesn’t even have the mindset to be embarrassed.

“Hi,” Zayn says back, almost as breathless as Harry sounded. 

Zayn goes in to hug Harry, arms opening for an embrace. Harry practically leaps into his arms but reels it back to maintain some kind of dignity. Zayn nuzzles his face into Harry’s neck, his stubble scratching Harry a bit. Harry thinks he just might melt. He’s pretty sure the air circulating through the pub isn’t working properly.

When they finally separate, Harry already wants to get back into arms. He misses the warmth but also the feel of his stubble against his skin. They haven’t even said two words to each other and he already wants to kiss him. Maybe a bit more.

“How are you?” Zayn finally asks, Harry can’t recall how long they’d been staring at each other, the heat between them rising significantly. Harry needs another drink.

“I’m well. Y-you?” Harry struggles to say. God, Harry isn’t going to make it through tonight. Zayn’s too beautiful and he’s already drank a fairly strong drink, drowned in tequila.

“Even better now,” Zayn smirks, looking up at Harry through his long, long, dark lashes. Harry’s sure they’re long enough to touch his cheeks if he closed his eyes. Harry gulps.

Zayn watches Harry’s adam’s apple bob, moving his eyes back up to Harry’s. Harry doesn’t know what to say. This is what he was afraid of. When he gets uncharacteristically nervous, he becomes unable to speak. 

Harry finally gestures for Zayn to sit down on the barstool next to him.

“You wanna drink?” Harry asks stupidly.

“Got started without me?” Zayn gestures to the drink Harry’s cradling in his hand, condensation creating a ring on the bar in front of them.

“Yeah,” Harry chuckles nervously. “Had to get some liquid courage.”

“Why’s that?” Zayn’s looking at him so intensely, making Harry more nervous than he needs to be. There’s no way the shirt he’s wearing now will be able to survive the sweat stains he knows are forming right now.

“I-I don’t know. A bit nervous, to be honest,” Harry tells the truth except for the part about being only a little nervous. He was terribly nervous, more nervous than he was when he had to perform the supporting role in his primary school’s play. More nervous than the night of his huge uni presentation that was worth half his grade. He doesn’t understand why, Zayn was just a guy. A undeniably fit, intelligent, dorky, funny, nice guy.

“I was nervous too,” Zayn responds honestly, causing Harry to look up from his glass at him. “But not so much anymore. You make me feel calm.”

Harry tries his best to hold back the grin threatening to take over his face. His stomach is fluttering and his heart is beating so fast. Although he’s still nervous, it’s subsided. It’s just Zayn, he has to remind himself. The Zayn he’s been telling everything to for the past month, the Zayn he’s thought about kissing since the first message he sent him, the Zayn that’s in front of him right now wanting to get to know him even more.

“Me too,” Harry admits quietly, locking eyes with Zayn, coaxing that soft smile from him again.

“God, you’re even more fit in person,” Zayn says breathlessly, loud enough for only Harry to hear.

Harry blushes furiously, he’s sure it’s spreading all the way down his chest where his shirt’s unbuttoned. He hopes it doesn’t look as unattractive as it feels. Zayn just smirks knowingly, understanding the effect he has on him.

“Says the Gucci model,” Harry responds playfully, going to hit him lightheartedly on the arm, trying his hardest to play off the heat Zayn is making him feel. Zayn catches Harry’s wrist before he can, eventually lacing his fingers with Harry’s, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand, causing Harry to get goosebumps. Harry feels like crying. This is every romance novel he’s ever read. Harry isn’t the biggest fan of them, thinking they’re entirely too cheesy and not nearly that realistic but he thinks right now in this moment, they might just be. 

“I’m no Gucci model, babe,” he says, smiling so big, tongue pressed up behind his teeth and eyes crinkled. Harry’s so gone for him.

They eventually orders drinks and get to talking. Harry doesn’t even realize they’ve basically turned their barstools so they’re facing each other, legs touching and knees knocking the other’s. Harry’s been heating up all night but it’s a comfortable warmth, like a fire in the middle of winter, crackling and sparks flying. Zayn’s always touching him, his hand on his thigh, on his knee, on his arm, a gentle touch that has Harry’s blood pumping and heart racing. 

Zayn keeps glancing at Harry’s mouth and licking his lips, making Harry want nothing more than to kiss him breathless but he’s too afraid to make the first move. He knows Zayn would willingly accept, he’s been sending all the right signals. Laughing at all his jokes and touching him in all the right places. 

Harry doesn’t have to think much longer about it because Zayn’s one step ahead of him.

“I don’t know how much longer I can wait to kiss you,” Zayn says quietly, almost like he’s embarrassed admitting something so intimate in such a public place.

Harry smiles bashfully, batting his eyelashes and looking at Zayn’s soft, wide eyes. He has the prettiest set of eyes, Harry thinks. Hazel, brown but soft and sweet like a baby deer.

“I’m waiting,” Harry smirks as Zayn leans in, moving his hands up to the side of Harry’s neck. They’re a breath away and Harry almost shivers. Zayn’s breath is minty, his scent is manly and Harry’s half hard in his jeans already despite the fact they haven’t even kissed yet.

When their lips finally touch, Harry’s pretty sure there’s an electric shock that goes off between them. Fireworks being set off within his body, he’s floating, lying on a cloud. Harry can’t remember the last time he felt this good, when a kiss made him feel like he was having an outer body experience. Their lips move together, Zayn taking Harry’s bottom lip between his own, nipping a bit then licking his tongue over it almost as if he was apologizing for the bite, Harry allowing Zayn’s tongue entrance. Harry lets out a hmmm sound, losing all self-control, forgetting for a second that they were in fact in a pub and not alone in his flat. Harry curses himself, wanting nothing more than push Zayn up against any hard surface and fuck him senseless. He wants to touch him, hear what kind of noises he’d make. He seems like the quiet but talking type, not allowing himself to moan or groan all that much but says some of the dirtiest things. Harry needs to stop thinking about this, he might come in his jeans before he even has the chance to see Zayn naked. 

Lips finally pulling apart, Zayn leans back a bit, eyes still closed like he’s savoring the kiss as much as he can. When he opens his eyes, he’s staring hard at Harry through long, pretty eyelashes, a dazed and gentle smile. Harry’s legs feel like spaghetti, he’s thankful he isn’t standing right now because he’s sure he’d probably collapse.

“Worth the wait,” Zayn whispers against Harry’s lips, Harry shivers, chills running all over his body. 

“Yeah,” is all Harry can muster. He’s incoherent and can’t breathe properly, he needs time to recover. He doesn’t think a kiss has ever left him completely breathless before.

“Wanna get out of here?” Zayn asks, hopeful, nodding to the door. He’s already turning his body towards the room, ready to get off the stool and walk towards the exit. Harry’s just as eager but suddenly nerves take over him again, this is happening. He’s going to do more than just kiss Zayn. He wasn’t expecting this and if he was, he would’ve mentally prepared himself a bit more.

“Yes, please,” Harry’s saying before he can even second guess himself.

 

_________________________________________________

 

The cab ride to Zayn’s flat is quiet but still filled with gentle touches between them, Zayn still making sure to touch Harry, keeping his hand placed on Harry’s thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the fabric on his jeans. It’s making Harry dizzy. 

Zayn keeps sneaking glances over at Harry, he can feel it. It’s like he’s nervous as well, wanting to make sure Harry’s comfortable with what’s happening, wanting Harry to want this as much as he does. Harry reassures him with a crooked smile back, blinking slowly causing Zayn to smile so big, he’s almost laughing under his breath, his eyes crinkling into half crescents again like they did earlier in the night. Harry thinks that’s his favorite smile of Zayn’s, not the overly sultry, pouty smile but the completely giddy and sugar sweet smile of a little kid on a playground. 

Walking into Zayn’s flat, it’s everything Harry expects. Bookshelves full of sci-fi novels but also novelty comics, pictures of his family plastered all over the wall, Harry finds himself smiling at the innocence of it. He hopes to meet them all someday. It’s crazy to think he’s already envisioning himself being introduced as Zayn’s boyfriend to his family. He needs to come back down to reality.

“Yeah, that’s Doniya, Waliyha and Safaa,” Zayn says as he points to each sister, showing Harry which one is which. 

“They’re pretty. Look just like you,” Harry remarks, not even looking at the picture anymore, driving all his attention towards Zayn who’s standing so, so close to him he can smell his cologne. 

“Wanna drink?” Zayn asks politely, most likely out of habit from having a guest over but knows the answer right away.

“Want your clothes off instead, if you’re taking requests,” Harry gives Zayn an amused smirk, glancing down at Zayn’s bitten, red, pouty lips, dick throbbing in his jeans. 

“Can do that. Anything for you,” taking Harry’s face in his hands, he kisses him again. Caressing his cheeks, thumbs rubbing back and forth, Zayn’s rings leaving a cooling sensation on Harry’s face. Harry lets out another hmmm sound, louder than before in the pub, able to freely make any sound now in the privacy of Zayn’s flat. 

Stepping back onto the sofa behind them, Zayn falls back gently, pulling Harry onto his lap, allowing him to straddle his waist. Zayn’s hands are everywhere, running up and down Harry’s sides, lifting up his shirt to allow him to touch his skin. Harry almost melts against Zayn’s hands, loving the roughness of his palms on his skin, on his abdomen and his back. Harry keeps his hands running through Zayn’s hair, messing it up enough to make Zayn look a little less perfect but still devastatingly gorgeous. It only makes Harry want to rough him up so more. They’re moaning now, Harry rolling his hips against Zayn’s, begging for a release, his jeans too tight on his hard dick. He can feel the precum dripping from the head, leaking a bit through his briefs. He can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed, too turned on to even give it a second thought. 

Before Harry can process what’s happening, Zayn’s unzipping Harry’s jeans, pulling them down enough for his dick to bob out, Harry letting out a sigh of relief. Zayn wraps his hand around him, twisting his hand up and down, making Harry hiss in satisfaction. Harry drops his head against Zayn’s shoulder, breathing heavily against him puffs of hot air and wet, open mouthed kisses being pressed against the side of neck. 

Zayn rubs his thumb over the head of Harry’s dick, making Harry whine, an embarrassing noise not even Harry knew he could make. Harry’s chest is flushed, slick with sweat that Zayn leans forward to place a sloppy open-mouthed kiss to, Harry holding the back of Zayn’s head while he does, cradling him close. 

Zayn eventually leans back, looking up at Harry through hooded, dark eyes. He looks like a complete mess, hair dishevelled and a sheen of sweat forming on his hairline. Harry can’t believe he gets to see him like this. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Zayn sighs, barely even able to speak, dazed and in awe of Harry above him.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he continues, making Harry moan in response. Harry was right, he was definitely more of a talker. “Even better in person.” 

Zayn moves the hand wrapped around Harry a little faster, up and down, then stopping to rub his thumb over the tip, making Harry whimper each time. 

“God, Zayn, please. Make me come,” Harry begs, so close he can see stars.

“Yeah? You want it, babe?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please. Make me come, please. Please,” Harry would honestly murder someone for Zayn if it meant he’d make him come right at this very moment. 

“I want you to come on me, babe,” Zayn pants, desperate and begging.

Zayn lifts up his shirt before continuing to wank off Harry, revealing toned, olive skin, Harry could come from just by looking at that alone. Zayn thumbs over the tip of Harry’s dick once more, making Harry come all over Zayn’s stomach, causing Zayn to moan along with Harry, offering words of encouragement letting Harry know how good and beautiful he is. Zayn leans forward, planting a wet, lazy kiss on Harry’s mouth, immediately capturing his bottom lip between his own. Their tongues meet, the sounds of their wet kissing and moans the only thing filling the room. 

“You alright?” Zayn asks quietly, almost whispering it even though they’re the only people in the flat.

Harry nods, not trusting his voice at the moment. Knowing for a fact he’d sound like a total mess, probably begging Zayn to do it all over again. 

After giving them a few moments to recover, Harry eventually slides off Zayn, allowing him to get up and clean himself up, Harry ogling him as he walks away stripping his shirt off. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling, going to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Minutes later, Zayn’s walking back into the living room, in all his topless glory, eyeing Harry as he sits back down next to him.

“Hey,” Harry smiles playfully at him.

“Hey,” Zayn giggles. Fucking giggles. God, Harry’s going to die before the night is over, he’s sure of it.

Harry inches closer to him, practically sitting on top of him, resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder, Zayn wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulder, pulling him in close. Even after what they’d just done, Harry couldn’t help but still feel his stomach flutter and his pulse quicken. 

“You can stay,” Zayn offers so quietly, Harry almost isn’t sure if he heard it properly. “Only if you want to though, not forcing you or anything,” Zayn stumbles, showing uncertainty that Harry doesn’t understand. He’d just had his hand down Harry’s pants and made him come all over his stomach and wasn’t sure whether or not if Harry wanted to stay the night. 

Harry lifts his head up from Zayn’s shoulder, making sure Zayn was looking him right in the eyes, stare intense and meaningful, “I’d love that.”


End file.
